Now I must say, I didn't expect to be surfing the world wide web in my underwear on this rainy Tuesday afternoon, clicking on craigslist ads that say things like...
Looking For Someone With Lots of Blackheads/Whiteheads in Montreal (downtown Montreal)
I thought it was the work of some fetishist (strangers? really??) but it turns out this person is testing out their own brand of pore strips...REALLY?? I am surprised to say that I went so far as to click on the links for examples of ideal candidates, as represented on youtube. Did you guys know about this?? People filming themselves squeezing their faces close-up?? REALLY??
Moving on, I'm looking at craigslist (eventhough Hilary told me it's not the best place to look for jobs) because my attempt at finding out how one goes about getting a job at a library didn't go so great and I'm feeling disheartened.
Why am I looking for a job, you say?? Well, have you ever had the feeling you're getting fired without explanation because of a bizarre love triangle that you're not personally involved in but happen to be aware of, perhaps more than some of those actually involved in the triangle?? Let's keep it cryptic until I know what the fuck is up but right now I'd say I'm peeved/livid/irked and asking you kindly to please, send cash.
I cried in desperation to Hilary that I should just go get a sexy bar job like everyone else and she told me to think about what I like. She told me I like writing and books. I also like stationery and stickers.
Hilary suggested I walk down the street to the library today and ask how one goes about getting a job in a library. I was going to do this but first I decided to try and get a library card. Actually, first I decided to run into my friend Brent and take a 3 block detour with him because I hadn't really talked to anyone all day, so naturally we were on the verge of goodbye in the middle of sidewalk in front of his doorstep for what he probably felt was too long because he certainly needed to go pee??
So, I'm trying to be friendly to the library man and I'm three words into my I lost my library card schpiel when he SHUSHES me and makes note of the echoing potential surrounding us. So I forget about asking him if I can read to the little ones in the kids section or whatever because he OBVIOUSLY THINKS I'VE NEVER BEEN TO A LIBRARY BEFORE. (Little does he know, I took out 248 books in my time at Concordia and there were months where I spent more time there in silence than with living/breathing folk who would hope to call me their friend.) Then I go out what I think is the out door and it won't let me out and an alarm goes off and I mutter something about how I thought it was the out door, step into the rain, and promptly burst into tears. I forgot to mention that I didn't get to join the library because apparently the cheetah postcard Guzzo sent me last week doesn't count as proof of address??
Then, since I invited Anaise over for dinner and all I have is cheddar cheese, I go to 4 Frères with the intention of buying poor food meaning 99 cent bread and ketchup if I'm going to get really bougie. I decide that since I have a whole 14 dollars in my bank account (not that I have to prove anything to YOU but I actually have more this time, I just happen to have a hold on it til...well, next week actually...) maybe I'll buy some salad stuff to make it a balanced meal of sorts (we already have plenty of red wine) but INSUFFICIENT FUNDS and then INSUFFICIENT FUNDS and then INSUFFICIENT FUNDS. I don't understand because I didn't spend that money but lucky me, Scotiabank at my corner closes at...like 2pm?? REALLY??
I wonder if the MASSAGE PARLOUR down the block pays CASH. I know they're open late.
(C U IN HELL.)
